


Little Arrow

by ladyofthegreymist



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7544029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofthegreymist/pseuds/ladyofthegreymist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May the Dread Wolf take you. And so he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Arrow

Arissa slumped onto her pack and began picking at her meagre rations. They’d arrived in the Hinterlands at their camp above Redcliffe Village a few hours before and had been briefed by a plucky red-headed dwarf. Varric had made a quip in regards to Hightown in Kirkwall that went over her head. She’d have to ask him about it later – maybe. She was unused to people. It was hard enough for her to get along with her own kind at the best of times. She much preferred the company of the trees and animals of the forests. Padding lightly over grassy knolls her feet crushing the soil underneath releasing earthy scents. Wandering aimlessly through ancient elven ruins, only imagining what it had been like in the time of Arlathan. She looked down at the boots she was forced to wear and grimaced. She hated stuffing her feet into them, she’d slipped a few times in the small skirmishes they’d had on their way to the village. They were not made for hunting of that she was certain. How was she supposed to run in them? She wasn’t able to grip her toes into the ground as she aimed her arrow at a target. The feeling of the earth below helped her focus and her shots were deadly. Right now she looked little more than a child with a bow pretending to know what she was about. Tossing her spoon into her bowl she discarded it unceremoniously beside her and grunted disgustedly.

“Got a minute Herald?”

“Varric, for Mythal’s sake can you please stop calling me that? I’m Dalish, I don’t believe in the Maker, or Andraste. I was clearly just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The dwarf studied her silently for a moment.

“I normally have people pegged. You know, nicknames. Solas is Chuckles. For no other reason than that he’s a sad, sorry, sack of elfy seriousness. You though. You’re harder for me to read. Sure you’re Dalish and a you’re a hunter but that’s not terribly original. Anyway I’ll work it out eventually. How are you feeling?”

“I somehow managed to get roped into serving in a religious group that has no relevance to my beliefs at all, I have this weird, magic glowy hand, these rations taste like nug shit and my feet hurt because I have to wear these useless uncomfortable boots. How do you think I’m feeling?”

“That bad huh?”

“Yep that bad.”

The elf turned toward the fire and sighed, hanging her head between her knees.

“You remember what I said about running? You know you’re in the perfect place for it. Slip out of your tent after dark never to be seen again.”

“I remember and don’t think I haven’t thought about it but in my short time of knowing Cassandra she’d have Leliana’s spies all over me, Cullen would come out in force and drag me back by my ear for a severe talking to from Josephine. I’d rather go back to the fade to be honest.”

Varric laughed out loud.

“You must be the most unlucky elf in all of Thedas.”

Arissa nodded in agreeance.

“Shit, I’ve got it! Lucky!”

“Varric?”

“Yes Lucky?”

“Fuck off.”

“Alright, alright I’ll leave you to your misery.”

The dwarf moved to walk off.

“Thanks Varric.”

He turned to look at her.

“For what?”

“Taking the time.”

Varric grinned.

“You’re welcome.”

She gave him a lopsided grin.

“OK good, now we’ve got that mushy shit out of the way can you kindly tell Cassandra I’m going to get us some real food.”

Arissa undid the laces on her boots and threw them off, grinding her feet into the soil as she did so. She discarded her stockings and the stiff leather jacket she was wearing. Rummaging in her pack she found a grey wool vest to throw over her tunic and a green scarf which she wrapped around her head and neck, covering her red braid. Slinging her quiver over her shoulder she tucked a hunting dagger into her belt and picked up her bow before giving Varric a wolfish grin and running off into the woods. Varric shook his head.

_How the fuck do I end up with these crazy ass heroes?_

 

 ###

 

Cassandra’s accented voice cut through the night like a dagger.

“She’s gone. The Herald’s gone! Did anyone see which way she went? We must find her, or all will be lost!”

Varric looked up from Bianca, cleaning rag in hand.

“Relax Seeker, the Herald was tired of the rations we were getting and went off to hunt something tastier.”

“Did you see her go? What if she’s hurt, or dead? I overheard the two of you talking. You told her to run away. If anything has happened to her…”

Cassandra towered over the dwarf menacingly. Hands balled into fists. Varric looked her in the eye, head cocked to one side.

“You’ll what Seeker? Interrogate me? Jail me? Been there done that. Besides. She won’t run. She might not believe in the Chantry, but she does believe in fixing the chaos. She might not seem like it, but she’s got a pretty good moral compass, better than most damned Andrastrians. Give her a chance. It must have been hard for her to go from living in her nomadic Dalish clan, to becoming a beacon of hope for nations of people. You expect too much from her too soon. Guide don’t push, I think you might find her less… prickly toward you.”

Cassandra’s face contorted in anger

“I…”

Cassandra relaxed slightly and bowed her head.

“I’m sorry Varric, you are right. She has been isolated. I’m sure she has not had much to do with anyone other than her clan. I… I’ll try and be patient and guide her as best I can.”

“Shit Cassandra we all can. I, uh… I promise I won’t put it in her head to run away again.”

“Thank you Varric.”

Solas stepped forward from the shadows and leaned nonchalantly on his staff.

“If I may interject Seeker. Perhaps I should go talk to her. Though we are not of the same people, she may see a kindred spirit and confide in me.”

“That does sound like a good idea. Thank you Solas. She has been gone a long time, I hope she has not gone far.”

“I am sure I will find her. Do not be alarmed if we do not make it back to camp by dawn. I will keep her safe.”

Varric grinned.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you Chuckles, I think it’s you who needs to be kept safe. I haven’t yet decided if she wants to kill you or ravage you. Maybe a little of both.”

The elf gave a surprised cough.

“Uh… yes well. I should get moving then if I am to find her by daybreak.”

Varric winked at him.

“Good luck with that.”

Solas shook his head at the dwarf and moved out of the camp into the shadows.

 

###

 

Arissa moved silently through the branches searching for her prey. She had gotten tired of hunting food, the stash she had left hanging in the tree at the lake above the burned out village would be enough to feed the whole camp for a couple of days and she would see to it that scouts would collect some edible plant life. Instead she was out hunting rebels. Templars… apostates. It didn’t matter which, she had seen the chaos and devastation they had caused to innocents and decided they had to be removed before more harm was done. A little way ahead she saw a lone cloaked figure, holding a staff. Scouting the area she couldn’t spy anyone else and so decided she would have some fun. Slinging her bow across her back, she silently drew her dagger and placed it between her teeth. Moving quietly, closer toward her target through the branches until she was directly above her prey. The figure made no movement to show that it had heard her. Steeling herself she took the dagger from her teeth and counted in her head.

_1… 2… 3…_

She dropped from the tree and onto the figure. In a flash her prey was on its back, she straddled it, her knees pinning its arms down by its side, her knife at its throat.

“Any last words before I send you to meet Falon’Din, rebel.” She hissed in its face. Staring back at her were familiar grey blue eyes.

“Solas?”

His eyebrows were raised in shock.

“Cassandra was worried for you Da’len, so sent me out to find you.”

“She thought I ran away?”

Solas nodded. Arissa took the blade away from the other elf’s throat and let his arms loose.

“Fenedhis! I told Varric to tell her I was hunting.”

“Da’len, I’m not sure Inquisition soldiers are cannibalistic by nature.”

“This? I… I’m not actually sure what I was doing. I have been feeling useless in battle. I’m not used to it, there’s too many people, too much going on. I’m worried I’ll hit one of ours. I guess this is how I felt like I should make up for it. Feel like I'm doing something and not just the idol on the pedestal.”

The woman was still straddling him. Unaware that she hadn’t let him go. The pressure of her body on his felt warm and comforting. He could smell her scent, one that he would later realise was unique to only her. She smelled of the soil just before the rain and crystal grace flowers in bloom. It was alluring and enticing. Solas knitted his brow.

“Da’len, if you please.”

The elf motioned at her with his hands. She looked down at him and grinned. It was predatory. Varric was right, he ought to be worried.  

She slowly and deliberately rose from on top of him and stood, offering her hand. Her warmth lingered, moving from his stomach to his groin. It had been a long time, since anyone had stirred those feelings in him and now was not the time. Pushing the desire aside he took her hand and stood.

“My apologies Hahren.”

She bowed respectfully and gave him that grin again, yellow green eyes sparkling in the dim moonlight.

“Where are you camped?”

“At a lake above the western outskirts of Redcliffe Village. It's not far I’ll bring Cassandra there tomorrow, it seems a good place to survey the road below. Hopefully the campfire is still lit. This way.”

Arissa loped silently in front of Solas, bow in hand, alert for attack. He studied her from behind. Like this she was self-assured, confident. It was a world away from the unsure woman she was when surrounded by the people of Haven. She always seemed detached and uninterested in everything and everyone, surly and more than occasionally rude. He had put it down to being raised as Dalish, isolated from the outside world, hating anyone who was not of her people. He was wrong. With he and their small band of companions. She was less guarded. A little freer with her conversation. The banter between her and Varric brought out her canny wit. Conversations with her had shown her inquiring mind. She asked questions. A lot of questions and it pleased him that a Dalish – a race known to be closed-minded and singular in belief – would deign to ask them in an attempt to expand their thinking. Perhaps a little more freedom would be a good thing for her, she would not grow if she was caged like an animal. It was something he needed to discuss with the Seeker.

 

###

 

She yelled at them to run, and so they did. This would all be over if he had been strong enough. Uthenera had weakened him beyond belief. It would take time to gain back what had been diminished, the Inquisition would have bought him that time and also stopped the darkspawn Magister in the process. But just like that she was gone and the mark along with her. He wondered if Corypheus had managed to dig her up from the snow and take the mark or if she was buried under Haven in a tomb of ice and rubble, neither thought was comforting. The loss of such a life as hers was wasteful. Too soon. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. His plan had unravelled before it even began.

“Lady Cassandra someone’s coming.”

“Who is it what can you see?”

“My Lady it seems to be a green light. Moving up there, on the hill.”

“It is her. It has to be. Cullen bring some of your men.”

The group disappeared into the distance. Cassandra's voice pierced the gloom.

"Thank the Maker, she's alive."

Solas let out the breath he never realised he was holding and watched as the Commander carried her down the snow bank into their camp. She was floppy like a cloth doll, her arms dangling in exhaustion.

“Get out of the way.”

The Commander growled at the pressing throng, all eager to see their Herald. This miraculous survival could only add to her growing legend and the growing idea of her being sent by Andraste or the Maker himself.

“Solas? Solas, please come check on her. She needs healing and the mark is flaring again.”

The elf gave the Seeker a nod of acquiescence and followed her to the tent. A throng had gathered and the noise of the people made his head ache as he opened the tent flap and went inside.

“Solas can you help her?”

Cassandra stood in the corner, wringing her hands in nervousness. Her face contorted in worry.

“Seeker if you will give me some time alone, I will see what must be done.”

The Seeker nodded and opened the tent flap to leave. She turned to him.

“Please help her survive. Those people out there need her. She is their hope.”

Solas gave the woman a small nod.

“Of course. Can you see that I get some heated water and elfroot if there is any in our provisions.”

“I will see to it myself. Thank you Solas.”

Cassandra left the tent and Solas turned his attention to the frail elf in front of him. She was sleeping the sleep of exhaustion. Unmoving. Her chest rising and falling was barely noticeable but she was breathing. Her skin was cold. Too cold. She had been exposed to the weather for too long. Her body was in shock. Solas held his hands over her, eyes shut. He scanned her body for injury.

_“No broken bones. A few shallow cuts and bruises. The mark is intact but spreading.”_

Solas’ hands glowed white briefly andthe mark stopped crackling like green fire. It was under control again for now. He turned as Cassandra entered the tent with steaming water, fresh elfroot and cloth bandages.

“How is she?”

“She is in shock, possibly mild hypothermia. Do we have extra blankets?”

The Seeker shook her head.

“No, we barely had enough time to grab what supplies we could.”

Solas nodded.

“I thought as much. Seeker with your permission I would spend the night in here with her. My warmth should hopefully be enough to raise her core temperature.”

Cassandra looked at him in shock.

“You mean in. With her?”

She gestured to Arissa.

“Yes. In with her. Right now body contact is the only chance we have of helping her heal. I will do nothing to sully her reputation as your Herald. If that is your concern. Station men outside the tent and let no one enter. I am her healer not her lover, nor a man who would take a woman without first asking.”

The woman nodded slowly.

“Of course. Do what must be done.”

Cassandra took a glance back at the woman on the bedroll and left. Barking orders as she went.

Solas crushed elfroot in between his palms and added it to the pot of boiled water. He let it steep as he prepared himself for bed. Pouring a small cup of the hot water, he sat Arissa up slightly and poured a little onto her lips. The woman opened her mouth slightly and he was able to get her to drink before laying her back down.

“Hahren?”

Her voice was weak and gravely. Barely a whisper. Her teeth chattered and she shook with cold.

“Shhh. Yes Lethallin, it is Solas. Lay down and try to rest. I am going to share your bedroll and help you warm up. If that is alright with you?”

Arissa nodded weakly and Solas lifted the blanket to climb in. He was shirtless, though still wearing his breeches and he settled himself under the covers next to the small woman. He pulled her into his arms, her head lay in his chest. Her skin was like ice and she still shook violently. He resisted the urge to pull away, instead using his magic he radiated a small amount of heat from his own body into hers. In time her skin began to warm against his and her chattering stopped. She slept deeply in his arms. His chin resting upon her tawny head. He was breathing her scent and it filled him. The feelings she conjured were not right. They could not work. He tried to push them away, but they came back pushing at him forcefully. Perhaps for now he could explore this little marvel he held, until his duty took him away. Maybe they both needed the comfort before he would shake the world to its core.

 

###

 

_A small, tawny she-wolf padded lightly along the snow. It raised its muzzle and sniffed the wind. It could smell, fear, sadness, loss and something… wrong. Its hackles raised and it growled at that which it could not see. Warily it approached the destroyed den of the two-legged and sneezed as ash and smoke filled its nostrils. Whatever the wrong-thing was had gone. Its scent was fading. Calming, the wolf searched, sniffing the stone and wood. There was another scent. Different. It was powerful. Male. Pack leader? No. Something else. The small she-wolf sensed it was being watched. It sat and waited, looking warily about itself. There! A large black wolf with grey-blue eyes. It watched her as it sat calmly. Waiting. Waiting for her? She growled at it menacingly but still it sat and waited. The she-wolf lowered herself to her belly and crept in. Never taking her eyes off the black male. It stared her down. The scent was different again now. Friend or foe? Flee or stay? Fight or submit? The she-wolf lay in front of the black male. Head resting on soft paws. Looking up with her yellow-green eyes she showed her submission. Leaving her fate to him. He leaned down and touched her nose with his, sniffing her. He nipped her ear with his canines and she growled. He sat back seemingly satisfied._

“So you are not as submissive as you lead me to believe?”

_Words in her head. Familiar? She raised herself off her belly and sat on her haunches. Boldly staring at the larger wolf. He bared his teeth. Not threatening. Pleased? She cocked her head to the side, regarding him. He lunged. She was not ready. She fell beneath him pinned. She would die._

“Time to go back, Da’assan.”

_His mighty jaws gripped her throat. Forceful. Pressing. She waited to die._

Arissa woke with a start gasping, her hands on her throat. She was fine. Not a wolf. No blood. No black wolf. Leaning back into the bedroll she shut her eyes. She was alive. Haven buried. Lives lost but she was alive. Lucky. That’s what Varric called her. Maybe he was right. Only time would tell.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this will turn into. I am currently running through my first playthrough of Inquisition with my mage Elauriel. Romancing Solas. My heart is breaking for her so I had to put it on paper somehow. For now it will be drabbles, some angst, not much fluff, because we are talking about loving the Dread Wolf here. It will follow the story relatively linearly and I'll try not to use too many dialogue lines unless I feel it calls for it. This collection of works will be based on my second Solas romance. Arissa, Dalish Hunter. I'll probably have drabble wirtten about my other Lavellan too. Chalk and cheese they are. 
> 
> Also please be nice. I would love advice and comments but keep in mind that this is my first "published" piece and I haven't written anything more exciting than a grocery list in a very, very long time. I'm also editing myself. So let me know if something needs to be changed. I might not post a lot. I have 4 kids so sitting down to write isn't always the top of my priorities. Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Bioware owns everything. Including my soul.


End file.
